


Call Me Lena

by ChewiesGirl (madametango)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madametango/pseuds/ChewiesGirl
Summary: A woman damaged but not broken. A man dealing with his past. And a whole lot of secrets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my take on what would happen if Harleen and Dick met (and not Harley and Nightwing). She was a doctor and I hate how she is always dumbed down so I let her true character start to show through in this. Will it become longer? Something else. Well I'll leave it up to you.

“The voices in my head are quiet – have been quiet for a while,” the young woman announced softly, trying not to fidget as she stood there among her peers, relating her story.   
Just the basics.  
The gory details were even too much for her to bear sometimes.   
She fiddled with the blonde plait down her back nervously, but none-the-less spoke concisely, eloquently, in an accent that oozed education and intelligence.   
“Medication helps, exercise, healthy food – when I can afford it, state ordered counselling. Living quietly.”  
She sighed then, only making eye contact with one member of the group.   
“The voices are quiet, but the nightmares persist,” she added almost in a whisper before continuing more confidently.  
“The questions remain in my head too.  
“I’m a smart woman, but how could I make such stupid decisions? I am an independent woman – but how could I ruin my life for a man?  
“He was convincing.  
“Too convincing.   
“I thought he loved me, instead it was something else, something toxic and I went from a professional career woman to a hollow shell. From a strong woman to someone living so deep in denial that she no longer knew who she was and what was right and wrong.  
“But I’m fighting back now, slowly, building a new life, standing on my own two feet, it isn’t easy but nothing worthwhile is, I learned that a long long time ago,” the young woman said before sitting down and letting the next person stand and tell their story.  
She didn’t know if these group sessions were working, but they were free and that was the right price when you have a dead-end minimum wage job and a flat that was little more than a roach motel.   
She sat through the meeting listening carefully as more people told their stories. The counsellor was doing little more than nodding and offering frankly inane advice and she wondered if the woman had done anything more than a basic six-week counselling course. It seemed ironic that she was more qualified than the person running the group and yet she was damaged. Too damaged. Too damaged to do the job she’d trained so hard, worked so long to do.   
Now here in this room she was just one of the damaged.  
Across from her sat a man, dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, chiseled and strong. He was like her, an irregular, regular – probably someone who worked shifts like her, she didn’t know. But he seemed to come when he could. Like her though he didn’t always choose to speak much. They had hardly ever spoken to each other in all the months they had both been coming to this group, neither of them stayed for the coffee and donuts after the therapy session. But tonight, he had been her strength, she had focused on him during her speech, and he had nodded encouragingly, sent her sympathy and helped her get through it.   
Usually it was just about their feelings that week, how they had coped with their anxiety, with the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that ruled their lives and drove them to seek out groups like this one.   
Though as there were a lot of new members they had been asked to outline their life stories, no names or specific details but just enough tonight. And it had threatened to tear her apart until he investigated his eyes and felt something she hadn’t felt in a long long time (certainly not with her last two lovers), she felt safe.  
He stood now and talked about watching his parents die in front of him when he was a young child and how it had always been with him, had forever controlled and shaped the direction of his life. It was the first time she’d ever heard his story and she felt like she was telling her and only her. She held his eyes as he poured out a carefully controlled part of his soul.  
He didn’t speak long -just enough but it had broken her heart. He sat down and nodded at her – a silent thank you and she acknowledged him with a smile, a smile she hoped said “anytime, I’m sorry” and a plethora of other things that remain unspoken at meetings like this. He smiled back, and it was probably that smile that convinced her to stay. It was a mid-afternoon group, the only one she could make, she was due to start work in a just an hour and she had a lot of prep work to do before she went, but her apartment was just a few blocks to the south in the rough part of town.   
She grabbed a coffee – the kind that could strip the paint off walls if you let it (another reason she was reluctant to stay) and mingled. She’d kill for a doughnut, but she was watching her diet.   
It was a risk, but it paid off, not only had he stayed but he had sought her out.  
“Risking the coffee,” he said nonchalantly as she sipped it tentatively and tried not to make disgusted faces.  
“It’s not the best, but I figured I needed it after this afternoon,” she said smiling.  
“Yes, caffeine is caffeine sometimes no matter how much it resembles and tastes like mud from the bottom of the river!” he said, a smile creeping across as he held a hand.  
“I’m John by the way,” he said.  
“You can call me Lena!” she said, and it wasn’t missed on him that she hadn’t said her name was Lena just that he could call her that. It didn’t worry him, John was his name, but it was his middle name – he wasn’t about to use the real thing here and he didn’t have to. None of them did. If she wanted to call herself Lena, she was more than welcome to. It sounded like she had enough dramas in her life without someone in her real life finding out her backstory. He felt the same way, though he suspected Lena had more reason to hide than most, but her speech had impressed her – her eloquence, her bravery.  
“I just wanted to Thank you Lena,” John said.  
She smiled warmly then, and it lit up her face, if he thought she was pretty before she was beautiful now. She was almost devoid of makeup – but she didn’t need it, the woman was stunning, and he wondered how anyone could treat such a beautiful, articulate woman so badly.  
“I should be thanking you – I don’t think I could have got through that without your support,” she said.  
“My pleasure,” he smiled wanting and ready to say more but his phone interrupted him as it always did, his life always got in the way of well life. It buzzed silently in one of his cargo pants pocket. He sighed. He should let it get through to message, he should but he knew he couldn’t. It was going to look rude now and he didn’t want it to seem like that. He wanted.   
He didn’t know what he wanted.  
Well, he did.  
But it was entirely a bad idea.  
So, he sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket.   
“I’m so sorry, I have to take this,” he said looking at the screen. Yeah, he really had to take this, and it wasn’t going to be quick either.   
He clicked the phone – “hang on!” John said as he prepared to walk from the building, this was NOT a conversation he wanted anyone else to hear.  
“Um so Lena – will you be here next week?” he asked his blue eyes twinkling.  
She nodded smiling – she would now – though she wasn’t going to say that to him. She didn’t need any complications now but still………. he was gorgeous, his story touched her, and she had a cooling off period before she had to see him again.  
His eyes twinkled more if that was possible and his smile widened.  
“Great – see you then!” John said hurry out the door while trying to placate the person on the phone.  
She stood there then, watching him leave. If he was nice to talk to and look at from the front he was spectacular from the back – though the man should do the world a favour and wear something tighter than cargo pants! She didn’t think she had a type, weird maybe? Her last relationship with a woman who talked to plants – and they talked back - and the reason for most of her distress was just plain and simply evil. She had sworn off either gender after them, though she had remained friends with Pamela. She shouldn’t like him, but he was good-looking, empathetic and beautifully normal and that’s what she needed in her life. A little more normal and a little less of the crazy.   
She finished her coffee/paint stripper, as best she could and looked at her own phone – she had half an hour to get home and changed for work before her shift at the only place that would have her. She passed tall dark and sympathetic as she left, leaning against a bike still talking, animatedly into his phone. She didn’t slow down to listen though it sounded more business than pleasure not that it was any of her business. No, what he did was nothing to do with her. She had her own life, her own dramas and somehow she didn’t.  
As she walked down the street to her apartment she left confident, articulate Lena behind. As she showered she left Harleen Quinzell behind and when she changed into her costume she’d left sanity behind – well kind of. She had to dress up for her job at the diner, she had to be Harley Quinn. And it’s the only place she ever wanted to be that person, with the simpering baby-doll voice, again. But you can’t practice as a psychiatrist when you’ve been declared criminally insane – you can’t do much of anything. Just live. And that’s what she wanted to do now – just live.   
Nothing else mattered – maybe that’s why she didn’t see “John” roar past on his bike heading back the Bludhaven. But he wasn’t John anymore he was Officer Grayson. Dick Grayson. And as Harley went into her second hour of work at the diner, Dick Grayson morphed again. And as he swung through the air on his grapple, Nightwing tried not to think of the beautiful, damaged young woman at his PTSD meeting but it was hard and Harley was having similar trouble.  
Maybe it would have been all so much easier if villain Harley Quinn had known the man with the fabulous arse was vigilante superhero – Nightwing.  
Maybe but opposites attract so maybe not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley and Nightwing face the realities of their lives and the crippling loneliness.

Her feet hurt.

They always did at the end of a 10-hour minimum wage (plus tips) shift at the diner.

But she had little choice of employment now, this was virtually the only job she could get after all that had happened to her in the past few years.........................after him.

She had gone to university to be here, studied long and hard to be here – in a greasy diner serving burgers and fries in one of the grimier, grittier crime-ridden inner-city suburbs of Gotham. And even more demeaning, she was dressed in a Harley Quinn costume. So much for leaving her past behind and moving on with her life. It almost felt like one step forward and two steps back.

But it was an honest days pay for an honest days work and no-one had died around her in months.

That was always a bonus.

She sighed.

The diner had a 50s feel, with the booths of glossy red vinyl seats (a little worn and torn from use) and white melamine tables (complete with gold star detailing where it hadn't worn off). The floor was a chequerboard of lino tiles and the walls had once been white, though now they were stained with smog, smoke and age.

The staff – dressed in various superhero and villains costumes – kept it as clean as they could but it was never going to be Michelin star worthy, at least there hadn't been any health department violations, well not in six months Harley had worked there.

It was late now – 20 minutes to closing – only she and Catwoman were left servicing the tables while superman idly flipped the last of the burgers for the evening. It had been a slow one even for a Wednesday night, but the tips had been generous, punters happy to be out of the weather she supposed. The way things were going this week she might even afford some fresh fruit and a good trip to the op shop. She yawned in that bored way you do when you really want to be cleaning and closing but there were one too many customers to get away with it.

Then the last order of the night was up and Darlene- Catwoman to the customers, delivered it out as Rock the Superman fry cook finally turned off the grill.

Clean up always took the best part of twenty minutes, longer if someone came in and ordered a late night coffee and cake. But that didn't happen tonight, it was cold and wet and no-one wanted to be out too late not even Darlene, who usually made her way to one of the downtown nightclubs or a hot date with the bouncer at the bar down the road after work, but even she wasn't bothering.

"It's too wet to be arsed with walking, do ya wanna split the cab fare?" Darlene asked not stopping her gum chewing while she did. Harley was finally emptying the dirty bucket and ringing out the mop - which signalled the end of another night of fun-filled glorious adventures knee deep in greasy fries, sticky coke machines and punters who really should learn to keep their hands to themselves before they learned the hard way.

Harley looked forlornly at her tip jar and then out at rain pelting down in the cold Gotham autumn night.

She sighed.

She'd promised herself a warmer blanket for her bed this week and a heavier coat, nothing flash just something not quite so second hand and enough to keep her from freezing to death if the heating went out in her building again.

"Nah, can't spare the dimes and it's only a coupla blocks from here," she sighed shaking her head and staying in Harley character.

"Suit ya self Harls – see you tomorrow night then!" Darlene said grabbing their coats from the storeroom.

"Yeah night Darls," she intoned. It was their running joke when they worked together – Harls and Darls -Harlene and Darlene the Bobbsey twins, though they probably had little in common, for one she doubted Darlene had a psychology diploma gathering dust on her wall, hell she doubted Darls had a school diploma. But she was a nice enough Broad, bad judge of men but Harls wasn't exactly a Nobel prizewinner when it came to that subject either, so she wasn't going to judge. She just quietly attended the other woman's bruises when she had to.

Darlene left as Harlene slipped her rather threadbare coat over her pneumonia-inducing costume (too tired to change).

"Ya want help with the till and closing?" she asked Rock before she left. They took it in turn closing if the manager had cut out early – like he did on nights like this - though Rock was usually the last to leave even if he wasn't closing.

"Nah Doll, got it unda control tonight, wasn't a ball-breaking night tonight," he said wiping his greasy hands on his equally greasy apron before taking it off and chucking it in the laundry basket.

"Night then!" she answered giving him a quick wave as she walked towards the door. She took a deep breath then before plunging herself into the inky gloomy Gotham night. There weren't a lot of street lights that worked between the diner and the rat-hole she lived in but it didn't faze her. Very little scared the former Dr Harlene Quinzel now. Her demons lived mainly in her head these days or at the high security wing of Arkham Asylum though she wasn't overtly enamoured with nocturnal flying animals of various shapes and sizes. But they seemed to be keeping to themselves in recent times so that was okay. She didn't poke the bear (or in this case the bat) and the bear/bat didn't eat her or chuck her behind bars so it was all good.

The dark night didn't worry her that much – though the weather was a bitch. She pulled her collar up and huddled into her jacket more, walking as briskly as she could as she was lashed by the wind and rain.

By the time she made it to her old 20 story building – with elevators that only opened on some of the floor and hers wasn't one of them – she was soaked to the bone and shivering with the cold. She trekked up the six flights of stairs, struggled with the old faulty lock on the door before finally, finally getting into her studio apartment – the type that was a big empty room that served as lounge, kitchen and bedroom, with just a small bathroom/toilet

"Hey honey I'm home," she called to no-one in particular because there was no-one waiting, no one that cared if she lived or died. Well, she had a psychologist and a parol officer, but that was all. There was no one who could help her unlace her shoes and rub her tired sore feet, that could run her a bath while she heated soup made earlier with love and care. There was no bath – just a ratty old shower whose head bent and fell at the most inopportune moments. The only soup she had would be coming from a tin, and a cheap one at that, heated in an old saucepan she found for a couple of dollars at goodwill on the one burner that worked.

And then she would slump in the quiet and watch her small tv with its grainy reception until she fell asleep and had to do it all again tomorrow.

There was no human company and her only "pets" were the cockroaches that had lived here since the building was finished and were impossible to get rid of.

She was alone now, alone, lonely and horny and her only companion was battery operated.

It felt like a half-life – but it was a life. After all, she had been through, all she had survived, that was enough. She was alive and mistress of her own destiny and that was all she could ever ask for now.

Damaged but not broken.

MEANWHILE IN BLUDHAVEN......................

The cold wind and heavy rain lashed the city and he stood, like a sentinel, on the top of one of the only really tall buildings in the place – looking out over his domain.

Looking for crime, the scum of humanity.

He was tired, and despite the heavy insolated rubber suit, cold, wet and hungry.

But he was still there.

Nightwing.

He was still on patrol on a night that he kind of hoped that any self-respecting bad guy or gal might be tucked up in dreaming up their next nefarious plan instead of carrying it out. Not that were many particularly nefarious plans carried out in Bludhaven – this wasn't Gotham or Metropolis. This was a city of beautiful old brownstones, not the ugly skyscraper canyons of Gotham. But there was crime, there were crime syndicates, there was corruption – well enough to keep him busy enough.

Though the crime rate had dropped considerably since Nightwing had shown up and that was a good thing. Yeah Bludhaven needed him and he could be his own man here, he needed that. Being Bruce's Robin had been a good introduction to this life and a distraction after the loss of his parents but he was a man now, not some raven-haired boy needing a purpose.

He had one.

Geez, he had two.

By night he kept Bludhaven safe from the criminals and by day he kept it safe from itself and the overindulgences of life.

He liked being a personal trainer, it was, of all the day-jobs he tried, the perfect fit for a night-time vigilante crimefighter, who'd grown up in the circus and been training in martial arts of all kinds since before his voice broke. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier, to be honest.

He had tried a few different professions before this- police officer had been the obvious one but that meant you were working when the crimes were happening or at least you had a lot of shift work which made it more than a little difficult to be in two places at once. Then there had been a stint as a high school gym teacher (though that had been only undercover to solve a crime) but after two months of fighting off teen-aged girls and temptation, he'd had enough. Being a barista had been fun. He had thought it might be a good way to overhear crimes but deals didn't really go down in the up-market, uptown coffee shops of Bludhaven. But hey he could make a mean cup of coffee and grilled cheese now – always a handy skill.

No personal trainer fit. He could work out and stay fit and the hours were flexible and there was definitely no night work. Well, there were a couple of bored 40 somethings that wanted him to do a bit of night work if you know what I mean but he didn't need the complication.

Though the sex might be nice.

Some human company at least.

He was lonely.

Sure he'd had women in his life, superheroes and supervillains manly. But their careers and egos got in the way or he'd had to have them thrown in jail. What he really wanted normal – a normal life a normal relationship. But he couldn't give up being Nightwing, it was who he was, it was in his blood or at least it was in his conditioning, thanks to his adoptive father and the family. Though tonight, as he stood there watching in the dark, sleety 1 am world of Bludhaven it wasn't quite that attractive.

He sighed.

Time to call it a night.

One last patrol and he could go home for a hot shower and some warm cocoa – just like Alfred use to make (well close – he didn't remember Alfred ever adding a shot of Scotch but needs must) and a cold lonely bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have decided to carry this one on - let me know what you think. It is very AU, I really wanted to make them my own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perfect fantasy world they are building Lena is falling for John and John for Lena - but where does that leave Harley Quinn and Nightwing?

It took "John" two more PTSD meetings before he asked "Lena" out.

Not that it was a real date – as a trained barista he was just sick of the paint stripper masquerading as coffee that he had to endure to talk to her. Well, that's what he told himself.

But she was gorgeous and he did like being around her. Though it was more the coffee, he promised himself (can you spell delusional?).

It had become a regular thing now, both staying back after the session to chat, he didn't push the flirting though, sure it usually came pretty naturally to him. He had a bit of a reputation, he had no trouble getting the girl, keeping her – yes well that was a different story. But Lena, well Lena was different. She was scarred, he knew how that felt. So he dialled back the charm and just let himself relax – more the way he was with his family (okay not that relaxed) but the way he had been around his police colleagues. Easy going and yet a little guarded and she was the same, though she seemed to relax more each week too.

Their after meeting chats weren't deep conversations, neither gave that much away – they couldn't really, not that either of them knew that about the other, knew that they had already met or that they had more in common than they could ever know. What John did know was that Lena was a receptionist at a doctor's surgery – one that opened late and so she often had the evening shifts, he also knew that she did the occasional waitressing shift at a friend's cafe. It was a lie but then it wasn't too far from the truth – she had worked at a Doctor's surgery, hell she'd been a doctor and she waitressed. They were little white lies, inconsequential next to – convicted supervillain. In return, she knew John was a personal trainer (there was little point lying about that) who had a big adoptive family. Beyond that, they talked about safe subjects, the weather, music, movies.

Truth be told he wanted to invite her to the movies had seen that as the perfect first date because as the weeks rolled on he realised that's what he wanted – a first date and well, plenty more after that. He'd never met a woman who liked Anime and Superhero movies and still enjoyed those quaint little arthouse films that almost no one went to see (because he was often in an empty cinema on his own and not just because he had to go during the day). Yeah, he wanted to do that, but he knew it had to be baby steps with this girl and maybe not just because she had been hurt, mentally and physically in the past.

Lena was just so totally different from the other women he'd dated.

Smart, sophisticated, funny..........normal. She wasn't about to change costumes and turned into a vigilante, a being from another realm or some supervillain hellbent on the destruction of Gotham, Bludhaven or the entire world.

And she wasn't.

Well not anymore.

Lena had buried those days forever totally – well not the costumes or the accent that grated on even her these days.

She like this guy, really liked him. He was sweet. So far removed from the Joker, Mr J, Puddin that it was hard to imagine that they lived in the same universe or breathed the same air. The Joker was a madman but John, John was real and honest and up-front.

What you saw was what you got.

Or so she thought and for now, that was enough.

She liked how they just talked. Liked that he could talk about the big superhero action spectacular of the day and then had an opinion on the latest Jim Jarmusch flick. She wondered what it would be like to go and sit in a darkened room and actually watch a movie with another person. It was a luxury in her world now but it had been in her old life too, the life before she escaped before she started to recover.

The Joker was too twisted for something so mundane as an afternoon at the movies and Ivy well, Ivy wasn't big on being trapped indoors for long – she was a free spirit, floating like a leaf on the breeze or some such shit. But talking to John she could imagine sitting in comfortable and companionable silence in the dark heck she even let her mind wander until it wondered what it would be like to have a little Netflix and Chill with a guy like him, a normal, sane, regular guy.

Of course, she was damaged so the self-doubt was crippling, she doubted that she was worth it, doubted that someone so perfect would want someone who was so obviously not.

. No one so perfect, so normal would want damaged goods because even not knowing who she was, she really was, she was still damaged, irreparably so she suspected.

However it didn't stop her hoping he might ask her.

But he hadn't.

To be honest she'd started to think that he wasn't interested in her, that this had all been just about finding someone to make the meetings bearable, about being a nice guy. Her self- worth was on its usual rollercoaster ride and was currently plummeting rapidly towards the ground or her feet or both.

And then, then they stood in line for whatever it was that was being passed off as coffee and he'd asked her to come for real coffee. He'd told her, as a barista, he couldn't subject his taste buds to this crud anymore, and she'd agreed, heck even the coffee at her diner was better than this stuff (though she didn't offer up that information). Yep, life is too short to drink bad coffee (and date bad men) she'd learned that the hard way.

"I know a place nearby, it's fun and quiet," he said.

Nearby?

Lena's panic levels rose again then. What if nearby was her diner? Most of the staff and regulars probably wouldn't know who she was – but Darlene would – especially if she flounced in wearing the sweater she had borrowed from her two weeks ago and so far failed to give back. She'd decided on smart casual today. Jeans and a nice off the shoulder sweater – navy and white – not a spot of red to be seen, blue stilletos – not too high though, high enough that she could look John in the eye. He had gorgeous eyes. So blue, so clear, so...............what had she been thinking about?

She had been about to panic, to call a halt.

But those eyes.

"Sure!" she had said, still staring into his eyes, hoping he didn't hear the slight trepidation in her voice. He didn't he was too nervous, a new experience – Dick Grayson didn't get nervous asking a woman out, John Gray obviously did (Yeah yeah he was Mr Gray – he'd thought of John Wayne but there were all sorts of reasons that was a bad idea).

She followed him out, she'd follow him anywhere well maybe not anywhere. Not into a life of crime, she'd learned that one the hard way and had the mental and emotional scars to prove it. But she would follow him outside at least.

"There's a quiet little café four blocks north," he said.

"Dominoes?" she asked, relief filling her eyes.

"Yes – you know it?" he asked smiling wide.

"Mmm," she nodded.

"It's lovely."

It had also turned her down for a job but then most places had, who would blame them she was Harley Quinn the woman duped by the Joker. They were very unlikely to recognize her with minimal make-up and glasses.

"We could walk – or......" he flourished his hand towards his bike, a classic blue Harley with proper seating for a passenger and ample saddle bags. It was a beast, a beauty, she'd always wanted one in red – one that was just hers, one she could ride off into the sunset on, but it was out of her price range now – well out.

Lena looked at the bike lovingly. She'd already gushed over it the previous week impressing John with her knowledge, turning him on the way she had gently run her hand over the seats, the chassis. He hadn't been the only one aroused that day, the bike was as good looking as the man himself, sleek, well-built, powerful and too sexy to be legal.

She really wanted to, the idea of being close to him was rather intoxicating and she missed riding, missed that kind of power between her legs, had always loved it.

But then she would be at his mercy, she didn't really know that much about him and she'd been bitten before, hell she'd had her whole arm, her heart ripped away (metaphorically). And where would he drop her? Back here? Definitely not at her rats nest.

He sensed her hesitation, frightened he might lose her, he held out his arm.

"But it's a nice day for a walk I think."

She smiled and linked her arm through his – it really wasn't. It was cold and a little bleak, rain clouds threatened and her coat, though thicker than her old one, wasn't really the best.

But this would be nice, this would give them time to talk, to walk, to smile and laugh. She hadn't done a lot of that in a non-maniacal, relaxed dating kind of way. And then of course as they started to walk, it started to rain sending them scurrying under the awning of a nearby Bodega laughing together in that relaxed way that neither could remember doing for a long time.

"It seems the elements are conspiring against us," John sighed.

"It was a lovely thought – and you're right Dominos is the perfect place for coffee," she said with a big smile.

"Raincheck until next week?"

John sighed again, he really wanted to spend more time with this woman and his life was so unpredictable. He had been lucky so far, he'd been able to come every week (who knew unemployment was actually good for your love life) but he didn't know how things would pan out in the future. He had to seize the day. His mind raced thinking of options before this beautiful woman, currently huddling intoxicatingly close to him, damp but still gorgeous, walked out of his life for another week. His mind raced until a smile bloomed.

"Do you trust me?" he grinned, suddenly holding out his hand to her.

She took it without hesitation, something that shocked him a little and warmed him a lot. Geez, he was getting soppy over this girl, over this woman. But she trusted him, someone, who had obviously been badly betrayed in the past and she was willing to, starting to trust him. His smile got bigger if that was possible.

They ran then, a block and a half, her in heels, him tugging gently at her hand both laughing the whole time until they reached their destination.

The Palace was one of the oldest theatres in Old Gotham. Ornate and beautiful but small in these days of ugly, modern, functional megaplexes. However, it was perfectly formed, warm, dry and, most importantly, with a proper coffee machine and trained baristas.

It was the perfect place for a first date, so perfect he was actually shocked he'd never used it for that purpose before, but as he kept reminding himself, he'd never met anyone like Lena before either.

Rain dripped off them as they entered the foyer with its beautiful old wooden floors ornate rugs and opulent walls and ceilings. The whole theatre was furnished in rich tones of purple and golden and though faded and worn it was still elegant in its own way. The aroma of coffee, popcorn and various foodstuffs, assaulted their senses as they crossed into that velvety old world atmosphere. Shrugging their coats to the cloakroom, they sat in the small diner just by the ticket booth and ordered coffee – proper coffee, that tasted as velvety as the surrounds. And they talked, really talked – about their early lives and about the world -about his plans to set up a gym, hers to pursue fashion. Guarded yes, keeping certain parts of themselves locked away, but still letting the other in enough, just enough.

They ordered food and talked, saw a movie they had been both itching to see but not wanting to go through the loneliness of seeing it on their own, not having anyone to discuss it with after. And they did that, they talked – dissected the film and drank more coffee until it was dark outside and his night world was beckoning and the evening class in design that she'd just signed up for was drawing closer.

Lena couldn't remember being happier, having a better first date in her life.

And they kept thinking, even when he gently and chastely kissed her cheek to say goodbye and made plans to do it all again next week, that it was so nice to date someone so normal and so removed from their usual worlds.


	4. When Nightwing rode a Harley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now things get a little complicated. Is it cheating when your secret identity sleeps with her secret identity?

Dick!

Dick Grayson was just that.

A Dick.

That was his own opinion at this moment, but he had a pretty good reason for believing it.

Because he was thinking with his!

Dick Grayson had a girlfriend, okay John Gray had a girl but he wasn't so delusional at this moment that he didn't remember Dick Grayson and John Gray were the same person.

John really liked this girl, this woman. He had moved his schedule so he could take her to the movies every week for the past month, was holding her hand now, taken her to dinner once and had even made out with her last night in the back row (it was the second time they'd seen Del Toro's latest so it was all good) and he had loved the feeling of the way she wrapped around him when they had gone for a long drive out of Gotham on his bike at the weekend.

So why was he here, chained to a bed letting one of the most notorious super villains in the world bounce up and down on him like a trampoline and not in an innocent way either?

Frustration he suspected.

He was taking it slow with Lena, keeping her away from anyone that might recognize him, choosing safe places for them to be together with a lot of people around and letting her set the pace, or at the very least not pushing it at all. But by god, she was beautiful and intelligent and he wanted her more every time he saw her. But he had to be the perfect gentleman. And she had a room-mate (well that's what she had told him because she figured rats and roaches counted right), he couldn't really take her back to Bludhaven at this point (that was hardly spontaneous) or heaven forbid, Wayne Manor. He was currently trying to secure a small place here in one of the Wayne Enterprise towers' to entertain her but work had been busy and he didn't exactly relish having the awkward, "Nightwing needs a love nest" conversation with Bruce.

So yeah, he was frustrated with no end in sight.

And Harley Quinn was gorgeous, desirable, convincing and there - and it had been a while. Too long.

Okay and he kind of liked the chains.

But was that really an excuse to for him to be here dressed as Nightwing with the one and only Harley Quinn riding him like, well, like his Harley?

He was sure this was not what Batman had meant when he'd asked Nightwing to "do a little night-time surveillance" on the notorious Quinn in hopes to find out where Poison Ivy was hiding. The two had been close in every sense of the word but Quinn had apparently gone straight and Ivy to ground.

Until now.

The green-thumbed goddess of gardens was threatening to blow up a new development being built on what had been pristine land at the edge of Gotham so Batman had needed leads, needed help, needed Nightwing to put his body on the line.

Probably not by latexing the only piece of his body which hadn't been previously latexed and poking it in where It was obviously wanted by the look on Harley's face and the way she was pushing against him, by the way, her face contorted in pleasurable pain.

Good god, she was gorgeous and it felt amazing to be inside her. Weirdly familiar, oddly and strangely right in some weird sick and twisted way.

But he had a girlfriend and it wasn't the psychopath on his "pleasure pole" as she'd called it when she'd liberated little Dick from his little Dick pouch.

He didn't even know how it all happened. He had followed her home, discreetly – or so he thought, from the diner she worked at and then quietly slipped to the roof of her building and down the side, fixing listening devices to the window. And then he'd slipped into the alleyway to listen. But there had been nothing so he'd made his way up through the building quietly, but not quietly enough because he remembered feeling a sharp pain and then the next minute waking up here, chained to Harley's bed.

How had that escalated into this?

Into what they were doing right now?

That was another mystery.

But not really.

He'd come to, only to find her standing next to the bed, using a feather duster to tickle him awake.

"A feather for a bird boy," she'd said, leering at him. She was wearing the traditional Jesters costume skin tight lycra, more makeup then he'd thought was humanly possible to slather on a face and even the bell hat. She'd worn that get-up with an apron at the diner and had drawn a lot of attention – it was a tough way to make a living especially for someone who had started out as a psychiatrist, someone who was obviously brilliantly intelligent before the whole Joker thing had happened. He had felt sorry for her, though she seemed to have a way with all of the customers, born to do what she was doing. Maybe she was just the sort of person who could turn their hand to anything and be good at it – even villainy!!

And now she was stuck in lycra, flaunting what was obviously a gymnasts body to earn not much and tips. Not that he could talk about skin-tight – well not in this suit.

She didn't need the makeup she wore, he realised as she came close to him, – it was more a mask he thought to keep the world out.

He was gagged but she leant over him, her rather ample cleavage near his face and whispered "birdy wanna to sing for his supper now" taking the gag away.

"Batman needs your help – he needs to find Pam," he'd said quickly.

"So he sent a boy to do a man's job?" she asked and he'd bristled.

"I'm man enough for you Harley!" he'd answered indignantly (probably his mistake in all this).

"Show me bird boy!" she'd said straddling him and here they were.

She kissed him now, long and passionately, groaning into his mouth as she held on to the rails of the bedhead and pushed down as he thrust up into her. He shouldn't be doing this, there were a million reasons, a million and one and yet, yet he couldn't stop himself, he kissed her back, hard, he bucked into her harder.

She moaned again. She was close he knew it, he only wished he could touch her, but then maybe that would be a step too far. This way it was mindless sex, this way it wasn't something personal and sensual.

He shouldn't be doing this.

She had been chanting yes, yes, yes in a way you'd expect Harley to chant and then, as she came, it changed, she changed, in his mind, she sounded more like Lena, his Lena.

"Oh yes, oh my god," she said but its hard to keep the Harley pretence up when you have lost your mind, in the good way. She didn't even notice she'd done it.

She knew she shouldn't be doing this, was trying to rationalize it in her head.

Maybe this was a reaction, a reaction to wanting someone and being scared, too scared, scared to be intimate with someone, really intimate, to bare your body and your soul. Scared he would see scars and ask questions, questions she should have answered long ago before there was need to ask them. Scared to actually fall again because last time had been so spectacularly bad, scared that he would find out she wasn't who she said she was.

And so here she was bouncing up and down on the birdboy, both fully clothed. Though he was right he was no boy, this was a man, quite a man. She wondered if John would be like this, but it wouldn't be mindless sex with John it would be something else, if and when they did this it wouldn't be like this. She let herself dream it was him below her, inside her. And when she came it was for him and not Nightwing.

Oh god.

She'd just fucked Nightwing.

She wished it was John.

God, she wished it was John.

This was wrong.

And yet.

She couldn't put her finger on it but it didn't feel as wrong as it should.

Actually, she didn't get a chance to put anything on it because suddenly there was a breeze in the apartment and she knew what that meant.

Batman.

She could feel his scowl before she even knew he was there.

He wasn't happy.

Well, he wouldn't be, would he?

"Are you quite finished?" he growled, he only really had one means of communication in Harley's experience and this was the most animated she'd seen him. Nightwing was in for a talking to. That was obvious.

"We need to find Ivy before she blows something up," he monotoned.

"I'll wait outside!"

And he was gone.

"So um, Ivy?" he asked as she moved off him and grabbed the prophylactic putting her costume back together and getting rid of the evidence, washing it, for some reason, in the bathroom sink before throwing it out. She didn't know why she did that – it wasn't her normal means of operation not that there had been any "Normal" means of operation since she'd left the joker, scarred and messed up beyond belief. This had been liberating, the not so little birdy had been what she needed even though she felt guilty about John. But John was a nice man and she needed nasty but not too nasty every once and a while. She couldn't imagine John understanding that but Nightwing did – maybe he was in a similar situation? She could imagine the big strong hero type like him having some whitebread little lady somewhere. But birdbrain obviously had a thing for chains because she hadn't needed to do anything to get him excited. Maybe that's why she told him? She didn't know much – only really had a sketchy address for her but she helped Batman and the Birdy. Maybe she just didn't want to see Pamela do something to get herself and others killed. She didn't know but all she knew was even though she probably shouldn't after she unchained Nightwing and had flown out the window with the big bat, she felt good, really good. Maybe he had shifted something for her, maybe he was what she needed so she could move forward with John?


End file.
